


All That You Can't Leave Behind

by krabapple



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 21:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krabapple/pseuds/krabapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing is ever that easy for Remus or Sirius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That You Can't Leave Behind

**_One_ **

Remus was sitting at his kitchen table, scrawling on a piece of parchment, when an owl the color of the black ink Remus was using settled on the windowsill and tapped lightly at the window. Remus barely looked up, opening the window with a bit of wandless magic and letting the owl alight on top of the table. Politely, the owl refrained from settling onto Remus' work, instead taking up one of the few bare spots on the table. For this kindness, Remus went to the cupboard, pulled out a sugar biscuit, and gave half of it to the owl before gently untying the letter from around the owl's foot. The owl continued to munch on the biscuit as Remus read.

 _Dear Professor Lupin,_ [Remus didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed by the use of the old title.]

 _As it will almost certainly come to your attention, we had a grievous turn of events during the last event at the Tri-Wizard Tournament._ [Remus felt his heart seize in his chest.] _Though young Mister Potter has come through alive, his reports to us, as well as the loss of another Hogwarts champion, clearly indicate that Lord Voldemort has once again risen to full power._

 _Sirius Black, in his concern over Harry's safety, has been made aware of these events and will need to be in further and ready contact should the need warrant it. I have already ascertained from him that it would be safe for him to reside with you, at least for a short while, until further arrangements can be made. I am writing to you today, Remus, so that you may prepare for Mr. Black's arrival, and to let you know that we may, once again, need your services._

 _I am sure Sirius can fill you in on the news regarding Voldemort and Harry. I thank you in advance for your assistance._

 _Most Sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore_

Remus let the letter drop to the table, and sighed. Harry had been hurt. Voldemort had returned. Sirius was on his way here. Dumbledore would be asking for more "services." The table before him swam for a minute, then stopped as Remus tried to get a handle on his swirling thoughts.

He looked to where the owl was grooming himself, having finished the biscuit. Under Remus' watchful gaze, the owl stopped, turning his own eyes onto Remus.

"Am I even expected to reply? Are you waiting for a letter back, or just need a rest?"

As if in answer, the owl fluffed his feathers once more, hooted softly at Remus, and flew back out the window.

Remus sighed. Just once, he would have liked Dumbledore to have been given him the option of refusal.

 

 **_Six_ **

Two days later, Remus was attempting to find the proper stack on which to pile the books in arms. His flat was small, cramped, and full to the brim as it was . Remus didn't own much, but it was all stuffed into this small one bedroom apartment in a less than reputable part of Muggle London. He had to admit that most of his possessions were books; the apartment was full of them, overflowing the few bookshelves he had. They were stacked everywhere--on the mantle, on the living room floor, in the kitchen. Some of the cupboards were full of books instead of pots and pans, or even food. The bedroom was even worse; there was a path to the bed and a path to the lav, but otherwise the only clear space was the bed and the small area surrounding the lamp Remus had on the floor near the bed. If he thought about it, Remus was also fairly sure there might be a book or two in the medicine cabinet.

The apartment was small; it wasn't in the best neighborhood, and it wasn't in Wizarding London, but none of that bothered Remus. It had only been him in the apartment; he could afford it; and Muggles were less likely to become concerned about the occasional thump around the full moon than wizards. The lights worked, and the plumbing was decent; the roof didn't leak even though he was on the top floor and the place heated well in the winter and cooled fairly well in the summer. It was within walking distance of the pub where Remus pulled pints in order to make a living (shift work which meant no problem having the regular odd day off and being paid under the table were both benefits for Remus), and the neighbors were quiet.

All in all, Remus had been fairly comfortably ensconced, if a bit cramped.

He had no idea how Sirius would deal with such close quarters.

He had no idea how he would deal with Sirius in such close quarters.

Remus was saved from further contemplation by a soft knock at the door. He knew before he answered it that it would be Sirius.

 

 **_Seventeen_ **

The first thing Remus noticed about Sirius was that he was filthy. His robes and pants were in scraps; what he did have was caked in dirt and grime. His hair was long and matted and knotted in several places. Remus could barely look at Sirius' hands; they were cracked from dryness, and dirt was encased in the cracks. Remus remembered those hands, remembered what they looked like on a broom, what they looked like knotting a tie, or thrown over James' shoulder. Remus remembered what they looked like when they were on his own body, and he looked away.

The second thing Remus noticed about Sirius was that he was appallingly thin. His collarbone jutted out from underneath his meager shirt, and his cheekbones were sharp in his face. Remus could even see Sirius' top ribs through that shirt; Sirius' pants hung loosely from his hips, and Remus wondered how he even managed to get them to stay up. There was no belt.

He was showing Sirius around the small flat, a tour that took probably less than five minutes, and he didn't even know what he was saying. They stopped inside of the bedroom, and Remus blushed like a fourth year. He had only one bed, and the possible implications of that had not even occurred to him.

"I. I'm sorry there's only one bed. I can take the sofa in the living room." Said sofa was almost as old as the two men, and had lost almost all of its padding before they had even left Hogwarts. Remus had found it at a garage sale a few years ago at a price he could afford, and it matched his coffee table.

Sirius was already shaking his head. "You keep your bed. I can sleep on the sofa."

Remus sighed before he could stop himself. "Sirius, you . . ."

"Will be fine on the sofa. I've been sleeping in worse places, Remus," Sirius said softly.

Remus met Sirius' eyes for the first time since he arrived. "Exactly. Take the bed." When Sirius continued to protest, he added, "Or we can share. It's big enough, and I don't kick."

Sirius fell silent at that, his eyes taking on an unfocused look. After a moment, he seemed to come back from wherever he had gone. "So you say," he said, quirking his mouth upwards in what Remus could only think was supposed to be a smile.

In return, Remus gave Sirius a real smile. "I do say. The lav's in there." Remus pointed. "There are towels ready, and soap. Have a shower; you'll feel better. I can fix us a light supper."

Apparently, Sirius didn't need to be invited twice to take a shower, as he promptly headed in the direction of the lav.

In the kitchen, Remus heard the water run for a full hour and fifteen minutes, and he charmed the tray of coffee, eggs and toast warm again five times. When Sirius still didn't emerge from the bedroom, Remus went in with the tray.

He found Sirius curled up on the far side of the bed, on top of the covers, dressed in a borrowed pair of Remus' pajamas (the sleeves and pants were too short), clearly asleep. His hair was still wet and slick from the shower, and though the knots were still visible in spots, it hung down to Sirius' shoulder blades. Light from the hallway lit the hair a black-blue, and Sirius' shoulders were rising and falling with each slow, deep breath.

Remus suddenly felt self-conscious watching Sirius without his knowledge, and he backed away down the hall, back to the kitchen. Remus sat at the table and ate his share of the eggs and toast alone.

 

 **_Twenty-One_ **

The next few days passed in some semblance of a routine. Remus would get up first, shower, fix breakfast. Sirius would then use the lav, and the two would eat breakfast together. Remus would either go work a shift at the pub or work on his parchments in the kitchen; Sirius often went back to bed, sleeping until mid-afternoon and more often than not skipping lunch altogether. When Remus worked the closing shift at the pub he would bring home take-away for a very late dinner, and he and Sirius would eat together before going to bed, almost always separately. Most often, Sirius would get ready for bed first, and Remus would follow after Sirius was safely asleep. Remus preferred not to spend too much time dwelling on that part of the routine; he knew part of him was afraid of what it might mean-- and what might happen if they went to bed together.

The truth was, there were a lot of things about Sirius that made Remus uneasy. Sirius slept too much, for one thing. Remus knew Sirius had nightmares; he would wake sweating and shaking several times a night, sometimes gasping, though he never asked Remus for help, never did anything but turn back over until the shaking stopped, and he never talked about the dreams during the day. But still, not even the loss of sleep due to the nightmares explained all of the sleeping Sirius did, the morning naps that sometimes extended well into the evening.

Sirius was also quiet, extremely so. Remus could sometimes engage Sirius in conversation over a meal, but it was almost always about Harry, or else something incidental, like the weather or the latest Quidditch scores. Otherwise, Remus worked and Sirius usually read, silently. Sirius never initiated conversation. He hardly ever smiled, and never laughed.

As far as Remus knew, Sirius never left the flat.

And they never touched. Fingers didn't accidentally brush reaching for the marmalade knife at the same time. Shoulders didn't touch while they were doing the washing up. They never, ever, came close to touching while sharing the bed. Sirius usually remained on his side, knees curled up, back to Remus; even in his nightmares he would keep his back to Remus, and Remus fought back the urge to touch Sirius on the shoulder every time one of Sirius' nightmares woke him up.

If he were honest with himself, Remus wanted to touch Sirius in other places, too, and it made him ashamed. Truth be told, Remus often lay on his back in the dark, staring at the ceiling for hours at night, listening to Sirius breathe: slowly when he wasn't in the midst of a dream, rapidly when he was, wishing he could just hold Sirius, touch him, be with him. Remus had gone too long without. Too long without the touch of another human being; too long without the touch of another man; too long without affection; too long without comfort; too long without loneliness; too long without fear.

He thought about what Sirius used to be, as his eyes bored into the dark, as he resisted the urge to turn over and spoon against Sirius' back. Sirius, who used to be loud and boisterous and quick-witted; Sirius who used to jabber on endlessly about the slightest thing, or the most important things; Sirius who used to carelessly throw arms around shoulders, give huge hugs; Sirius who used to squeeze Remus' knee under the table; Sirius who used to kiss Remus constantly, even in public, which made Remus blush with embarrassment and contentment; Sirius who used to clutch at Remus' shoulders and splay his hands across Remus' thighs.

Remus would then close his eyes and turn his own back to Sirius'.

 

 **_Thirty-four_ **

 

Remus came home from working the closing shift at the pub to find Sirius sitting on the sofa in the living room, reading. He was wearing Remus' reading glasses, and he looked up when Remus walked in. Sirius had cut his hair; first he'd tried just cutting the knots and mats out, but that made it uneven. Today he must have gone further, cutting the length until his hair was cropped closer to his head.

Remus held up the bag he was carrying. "I brought curry."

Sirius took the glasses off his face. "Sorry about the glasses; I guess I need a pair of my own. They help."

"I'm glad they help. Wear them whenever you like."

Sirius looked at Remus for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I'll get some plates, shall I?"

They spooned the curry out onto the plates Sirius brought back, the coffee table between them. They ate mostly in silence until a sudden thought occurred to Remus.

"You don't like curry," Remus said.

Sirius looked up from his plate. "What? The food's fine, Remus." He started to go back to wrestling with an errant noodle when Remus spoke again.

"I. No. I mean, not now. I." Remus paused. "Before. You hated curry. Never ate it. You never let me bring it home, never let James take you out for Indian." Sirius visibly winced at the word "James," and Remus instantly felt guilty.

"It's fine, Remus," Sirius said again.

"If you don't like it, I can bring something else home next time. In fact, we might have something else in the kitchen . . ." Remus trailed off as Sirius looked at him, slate grey eyes meeting his own.

"I. I don't care, Remus. The food is fine. I." Sirius stopped, swallowed. "I don't remember," he said finally. "I don't remember that I don't like curry. I don't remember that you never used to bring it home." He sighed. "I just _don't_."

"Oh," Remus said. Silence descended, and Remus began to wish he could take the whole night back, from the moment he walked in the door.

Suddenly, Sirius spoke again. "It's so easy for you."

Remus blinked. "Pardon?"

"It's . . . so easy for you. You never. You have your life; you go on."

Remus snorted, not a little bitterly. "I have no life, Sirius."

"You . . ."

"I have no life, Sirius," Remus repeated. "I have a flat. I have a job. I read when I'm not at my job. Sometimes I do research, or make notes. I don't have a _home_. I don't have a _career_. I don't have _friends_ , or . . ." Remus stopped, and his fork clattered to his plate nosily.

Sirius' eyes grew stormy. "You. You believed me about Peter. You took me _in_. Like it's _nothing_."

"You would have done the same for me," Remus said.

Sirius was silent, and Remus understood for the first time, finally, that Sirius might not have.

The set of Remus' jaw hardened. "It's not _nothing_." He had a hard time controlling the volume and steadiness of his voice.

"But it's . . . easy. Quick. The forgiveness. The . . . help."

"It's not _easy_ , Sirius. It's _all I have_." This time, Remus' voice did shake. "Don't you understand that? Forgiving you, believing you . . . it's the only thing I did right in _twelve years_."

Sirius started to shake his head, but Remus spoke again. "You speak of my forgiveness, what about yours? I left you to rot in Azkaban."

"You couldn't have . . ."

"Yes, I could have. I just _didn't_. I didn't trust you then; the least I can do is trust you now." Remus fell silent, and the silence seemed to eek out and fill all of the air in the room.

This time, Sirius did begin to shake his head. "I don't understand how you don't hate me," he said softly. "I failed Lily, James, Harry. You."

"Sirius Black, you failed no one, unless it was yourself, and that was more my doing than yours. I don't see how you don't hate _me_." Remus looked down.

"So we'll each blame ourselves?"

Remus looked up at Sirius' tone which was, instead of being angry or bitter, instead perilously close to the old Sirius' teasing voice. Sirius' face was blank, and his eyes were still stormy, but he didn't look upset, just thoughtful.

Remus looked down again at his abandoned curry. "I suppose." He paused. "Having you here isn't _easy_ ," he whispered.

"I can go somewhere else."

Remus head snapped up. "Absolutely not."

"But . . ."

"It's not easy. It's . . . no one said it would be easy. It's. It's not easy to. To see you having nightmares, and not be able to help. To see you not eat. To have you be so quiet. To _want_ you." Remus' voice wrenched at the word "want." Sirius didn't respond, and Remus didn't look up until the silence became unbearable.

When he did look up, it was to see Sirius' mouth open. Remus felt an edge of hysterical laughter, and forced it down. He just met Sirius' gaze until Sirius shut his mouth, and then opened it again to say, "You want me?"

" _You're_ all I have," Remus said softly.

Sirius bent his head, and shook it again. Remus suddenly realized that the head shaking was something Padfoot would do.

"Remus John Lupin," Sirius said. "Do you know you were the first person to touch me in twelve years, when you hugged me in the Shack?"

Remus swallowed hard.

"Do you know that you were the last person to touch me since then, too?"

"I don't know what that means," Remus admitted.

To Remus' utter shock, Sirius smiled his first real smile since he'd arrived at Remus' flat. "It means, I think we both want the same thing. We just don't know how to go about it."

"Oh."

"Indeed."

Remus reached out a shaking hand and touched Sirius' cheekbone under his right eye. Sirius' eyes shut, a flicker of his long, dark lashes against his pale skin, but he didn't flinch. Remus moved his fingertips from Sirius' face to his collarbone. They lingered there, stroking the entire way across, then gently moved to trace the tattoo on Sirius' breastbone that his open top buttons made visible. Sirius shivered, and Remus started to pull his hand away, but Sirius' hand quickly came up, and he captured Remus' hand in his own.

Sirius opened his eyes. Sirius' breathing had sped up, and Remus' hand continued to tremble slightly, his lower lip caught in his teeth.

"But we were always good at figuring out puzzles if we worked together," Sirius said.

"That we were," Remus answered. He leaned forward enough to place a light kiss on Sirius' cheekbone, then his jaw, and finally, with the barest hesitation, Remus dropped his lips down onto Sirius'.

They went to bed at the same time that night, and slept facing each other, limbs entwined of their own accord.


End file.
